this is the beginning
by anemotionaltether
Summary: Lydia Martin arrived to college hoping to have the normal college experience. Stiles arrived knowing that he would always be looking for something new and supernatural to look into. Their worlds collide and sparks will fly.
1. Chapter 1

This is a college AU, mainly Stydia but there will be plenty of Scott/Stiles friendship, Allison/Lydia friendship, along with Scira and Allisaac, Everyone is what they are on the show, but it's done a little different. For one, Derek is obviously not the one who bit Isaac, since he isn't an alpha. Cora is also present. It's weird, just stick with me, I have the first six chapters plotted out and planned.

All mistakes belong to me, I reviewed this multiple times but mistakes still constantly get by me, so I apologize in advance.

**_This Is the Beginning_**

Lydia Martin learned to adjust to college and being a banshee. She threw caution to the wind, finding all the good parties to go to, all the right people to join up with, and all the right fraternities to associate herself with. It was hard work and she somehow managed it with her enormous amount of schoolwork.

All of the advanced classes in the world did not prepare her for college. She was still far more advanced that any person on that campus, but that didn't mean she didn't have to work for it.

But if there was one thing Lydia was good at, it was finding that perfect balance of fun and learning.

It was a gift that her roommate, and newly appointed best friend, couldn't help but marvel at as she pored over book after book and still only just managed to cling to a GPA high enough to ensure her scholarship continued supporting her.

"You did not just get back from a party," Allison Argent said in amazement as Lydia came in, kicking her heels off.

Allison straightened up from where she was leaning over her desk, glancing at the clock to find it was six in the morning. "Tell me you didn't stay in here all night _studying_ for that test," she fired back, throwing herself onto Allison's bed.

Allison smiled patiently. "No. I woke up at five to continue studying. Not all of us are blessed with natural brains," she informed her. "I actually came back from that party last night."

Lydia stared up at her, scandalized. "I came back! I had to change for the next party," she told her defensively.

Allison laughed. "Oh, how silly of me."

Lydia smiled, stretching her arms over her head and yawning. "I need a distraction."

Allison turned in her chair, shutting her book, already resigning herself to the fact that she wouldn't be getting any more studying done before the test. She crossed her legs, leaning forward, smiling playfully. "A distraction? From what, the ten other guys you've been distracting yourself with?"

Lydia rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "It is not ten! Jackson and Aiden are fun, but they're kind of like celery."

Allison frowned. "I'm lost."

Lydia sat up and sighed. "You feel really good about yourself during, but afterwards, you're still kind of empty, and craving something else," she explained.

Allison laughed, nodding her head. "Right." She sat back up, pulling her feet up and tucking her knees in against her chest. "Have you ever, maybe considered a real relationship? I'm not saying it's going to fill your life with meaning, but it might be a lot better than the hookup of the week…" her frown deepened, and she shook her head for a moment. "_Not _that a hookup of a week is bad either, I just want you to be happy!" She insisted.

Lydia laughed. "I'll work on it. But just remember, not all of us have those kind, understanding boyfriends that will stay up late with us on the phone," she teased.

Allison blushed. "Just wait, you'll find yourself your very own Isaac and regret the day you mocked me," she said, grabbing a pillow off her bed and tossing it in her direction.

Lydia dodged it, jumping to her feet. She stood there for a moment, head tilted to her side. "I am really short without heels," she observed, studying her reflection in their full-length mirror.

Allison stood to her feet, stretching carefully. "You should get some sleep before class instead of obsessing about your height," she suggested, brushing past her to get into her closet. "And I'm going to go shower before my own. Don't find another party while I'm gone."

Lydia pulled a face, but waited until Allison had left for the bathroom to sink to her bed, hands over her ears. Some faceless man who she never discovered, despite Derek Hale's help, bit her three years ago, but there was no explaining what happened to her afterwards. She did not turn into a werewolf, like Derek, but instead something entirely different. Cora Hale was less than willing to help her with the turn, should she survive the bite, but none of them were prepared for a banshee.

It was useful though. She was drawn to the more gruesome deaths, something she didn't consider a _gift _but there were fewer missing persons, but a longer list of unsolved murders. She would scream, and suddenly her mind was clear to hear the thoughts of the dying. It wasn't a fate she wished on anyone.

Derek was hesitant to see her leave, unable to keep an eye on her and her uncertain _abilities _but she's been managing for three years. If anyone was able to strike out on her own, it was Lydia. She assured Derek she wouldn't put 'banshee' on any list of qualifications and he promised to check in on her. According to Derek, there were a few people he knew that went to this college, so it was equal opportunity to play big bad alpha and make sure she was coping on her own.

She also wouldn't deny that she was curious as to who some of the 'known werewolves' were that she would count as her peers, but it wasn't as if she was going to be putting up flyers requesting all werewolves to seek her out. She was also enlightened enough to know that not all werewolves were as kind as Derek. Cora, for one, was more on the abrasive side but she still considered her as close a friend she could get back home. She certainly wasn't the type to stay up all night with, talking about hair and boys.

No, that was definitely Allison. She was the perfect best friend. Lydia hasn't confided completely in her, but she did talk about Derek and Cora. Allison had a boyfriend back home, and her own group of friends. Lydia knew next to nothing about her, but the same could be said for Allison. Lydia was hoping that could change, though. She wanted a best friend who she could trust with her secret. She wanted a best friend who didn't roll her eyes every time she turned on her curling iron. Cora was great in many aspects, but she spent too much time on her own, fighting to survive to have any patience for Lydia's interest in clothes, make ups, and boys. She spent their time together teaching her how to fight, but Lydia didn't quite pick up on it. She picked up on the basics, but her talents were running in high heels and screaming when someone died, or was close to death.

Lydia fidgeted uncomfortable, pushing her hands tighter, face screwed up in concentration. "_Not now_," she grounded out through clenched teeth, the noise growing louder and louder.

She took deep, even breaths as the voices grew in intensity, pounding in her head almost painfully, and she knew if she just _screamed _everything would be clear. But everyone would hear.

_Let your freak flag fly, _she thought bitterly as the noise became too much and she just screamed.

Stiles saw Scott tense up out of the corner of his eye from where he sat at his desk, searching for something school related for once. He spun in his chair, staring at Scott. "What is it?"

Scott held a finger up to him, head tilted, a frown settling on his brow. "Someone is screaming."

Stiles threw his hands up in frustration. "Yeah, dude, it's college. Of course someone is screaming. I thought you tried to not let your wolf ears listen in on that kind of stuff," Stiles reminded him.

Scott shot him a look. "No, this is different," he insisted. "It's…weird. I've never heard anything like it."

Stiles sat up straighter. "Something different? I'm for that! Do you know how boring this place has been with nothing supernatural popping up every other week?"

Scott laughed, glancing at his best friend. "Boring isn't how I would describe it." He stood to his feet slowly. "It's coming from upstairs."

He was out of the room before Stiles could blink. "Wait, Scott!" He called, hurrying after him, mumbling under his breath about inconsiderate werewolves using their speed and forgetting about the fact that humans are considerably slower.

Once he caught up, it was only to find a crowd surrounding one room. "No! I'm telling you, I'm fine, it was just a spider!" A voice loudly insisted.

Stiles forced his way through the crowd, joining Scott. "Why do people feel this urge to gather when someone screams?" Stiles wondered.

Scott turned to look at him. "You mean like we are? Right now?" He said.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "This is different. You said her scream was different. We're not spectators, we're here to find out what's different about the girl behind it," he explained easily.

Scott stared blankly at him. "Right, of course. Except we still seem like the rude people who are gathering around a girl who is obviously stressed," he whispered.

Stiles nodded slowly. "Yes. But only because she is different, and we, being fully engrossed in the world of different, are here to find out more about the other different people," he told him, clapping Scott on the back.

Scott mouthed wordlessly. "I-you just said the word different a lot!" Scott said, staring at him helplessly.

Stiles shrugged. "She's something you don't know, we are being…inquisitive. Not rude," he assured him.

Scott sighed. "I'm going to see what I can hear," he muttered, stepping closer.

Stiles stood by, waiting impatiently as Scott tilted his head towards the door, listening intently. Stiles waited but Scott hadn't moved. "Dude, what's going on?" He demanded.

"Okay, everyone clear out!" A voice shouted irately.

Stiles snorted. "Someone did not like her six a.m. wake up call," he muttered to Scott. "So what's going on?" He asked. Scott didn't immediately answer, however, head still titled to the door even as Stiles pulled him around the corner, hidden from sight of the RA who was clearly in no mood to have any more people occupying space in the hallway. He stood there, waiting, glancing around the corner every so often where the door was now shut.

Scott finally turned to face Stiles. "Her name is Lydia. She is standing by the spider story but she's lying," he explained. "That doesn't make sense."

Stiles searched around uncertainly. "Okay, okay, let's do this. We need a plan."

Scott narrowed his eyes, staring at Stiles in obvious confusion. "I know that. What's the plan?" He hissed.

Stiles shrugged his shoulder, tossing his hands up. "I don't know. I haven't gotten that far yet!" Scott dropped his head in defeat, shoulders slumping. "We want to know what she is. And you are obviously the best person for that job, seeing as how you already have the whole 'I'm a werewolf, I know what it's like to be different' thing going for you."

Scott raised his eyebrows as he studied his best friend curiously. "Are you passing up the opportunity to talk to a girl?" He wondered in amazement.

Stiles scoffed. "No. I'll talk to the roommate. Now, go!" He said, shoving him forward. He tiptoed away while Scott went to the room. He heard him knocking and then muffled voices.

He leaned against the wall, waiting. He honestly thought college would be different. Ever since Scott got bit that night in the woods, their lives had changed. Stiles stood by his side, got him through the worse of it. They had no one to go to, no one to explain to Scott what was happening, or why. He gets a bit by a wild animal and next thing they know, Scott is changing on a full moon, completely out of control. He nearly killed Stiles that first night, and it took weeks for Stiles to convince him it wasn't his fault. The guilt nearly devoured him whole, but it was nothing compared to the monster he became before he finally learned some semblance of control.

Deaton helped.

It didn't take for long for Scott to learn that his boss knew more about werewolves and the world of supernatural than most bosses. He helped Scott reign in the wolf, to become more _human_, even when he shifted. Scott had complete control now and most of their time afterwards was spent trying to stop people from dying when they could and learning everything there was about what happened to Scott that night.

Three years and no idea who bit him or why; needless to say, they were frustrated with the lack of answers.

He heard the sound of a door shutting and he straightened up, glancing around just in time to see Scott and a girl with strawberry red hair leaving through the side exit of their dorm. He laughed quietly. He knew if anyone could get a person to trust him enough to actually have a conversation with a person they don't even know, it was Scott McCall.

There was a soft knock on the door. Lydia and Allison exchanged confused glances. "Someone wanting to find out why the psycho on the fifth floor was screaming her head off at six in the morning?" Lydia wondered. "Or perhaps someone angry that I woke them up, coming to tell me how I ruined their beauty sleep?"

Allison smiled uncertainly. "Well, ignoring it won't make it go away."

Lydia stood up and swung the door open. "Hi," Scott said slowly. "I'm just, um, I heard your scream?"

Lydia pursed her lip, nodding her head. "Yeah. You and the entire dorm room!" She said with false cheer.

He hesitated for a moment, glancing into the room where Allison sat, watching him carefully. The first thought that occurred to him was she was gorgeous. The second thought was that she would definitely kick his ass if he even looked like he was going to consider saying the wrong thing to her. "No, I mean," he sighed, lowering his voice so only she could hear him, "I mean I _heard _you."

Her eyes widened noticeably. "You are-"

"Yes," he said quickly, nodding his head.

Lydia turned to glance at Allison. "I'll be right back." She stepped out into the hallway with him and crossed her arms over her chest. "Explain."

He shut his eyes, focusing for a second, before his nails elongated into claws. He didn't dare reveal more in case someone walked out, but Lydia got the message. "You're a werewolf," she said simply.

"And you're not," he asserted.

She smiled coldly. "And how can you tell?" She demanded.

He motioned at her feebly. "Your scream, I know screams. That was not normal."

She sighed, dropping her arms to her sides. She took a deep, steadying breath. "No, it's not," she finally said. "Someone out there is dead. I don't know where, I just know," she explained, voice trembling as she stared around.

He stepped back. "Okay then. I don't have class until ten, let's go find it," he suggested.

She groaned. "I _always _find the dead bodies," she grumbled. She told him to wait there and returned to the room where Allison was on the phone with Isaac, having a rushed conversation about something she couldn't catch. "Hey, I'm going to get breakfast with this guy."

Allison smiled knowingly at her. "Is he going to be a new distraction?" She inquired, waggling her eyebrows at her.

Lydia laughed. "No. But new friends never hurt anyone," she pointed out.

She grabbed her jacket and joined Scott back in the hall; following him down the hallway and to the side exist.

Lydia and Scott headed onto campus in silence. She felt no need to strike up a conversation with the werewolf in her life and he was sniffing for a dead body. It was something she was used to, something she did often with Derek. She had an idea of where she was going, always able to find a dead body all on her own. It was her biggest issue after the bite. She'd scream and leave the house meaning to go one place, and next thing she knew, she was stumbling over a corpse, unsure of how she'd got there. That's when she'd call the police, and then Cora.

Lydia's stomach became made of steel after the fourth time it happened. Cora sat with her for half an hour the first, rolling her eyes but refraining from making any comments as she threw up in the woods. She had no choice but to eventually prepare herself for the fact that this was just going to keep happening, and she couldn't keep making Cora deal with her being sick in the woods. Cora was not made of patience as it is.

So Lydia was surprised as her and Scott found themselves in the deeper area of the woods, unaware that she was now leading him. Not until the came to a stop and found the body lying there.

"She's younger than me," Lydia whispered.

Scott knelt down, frowning. "She was bitten."

Lydia joined him and found exactly what he was talking about. A bite on her arm, very similar to the one Lydia had after she was attacked. The only difference was, Lydia survived. Then again, what was it that Derek always told her? _"Not everyone survives the bite._" Some die. This seemed deliberate, like they didn't intend for her to survive. She moved closer, lifting where her shirt was torn. "Another bite," she whispered. "She wasn't meant to live. This wasn't someone wanting to try for another werewolf, this was murder." She sat back on her ankles, as Scott gaped at the body. She pulled her fingers through her hair, shaking her head slowly. "Why would someone do this? She's what? Sixteen?"

Scott saw her shaking out of the corner of his eye. "How old were you?" He asked carefully.

Lydia sat up and smiled sadly. "Sixteen. I didn't see who did it. One minute I was waiting for my date, the next I was waking up and in a lot of pain. I don't think I was meant to survive, either, and I was certainly not meant to shift, because I never did." She tilted her head in his direction and smiled. "I just screamed a lot and then we would find dead bodies." She sighed. "I was that girl in high school. Beautiful, popular, everyone either hated me or loved me but they never crossed me. Then one day there was a murder in the same neighborhood as the school. I could hear it, that noise, and I couldn't drown it out. So I did the only thing I could. I screamed, right in the middle of class. Suddenly I wasn't that girl anymore but I was the girl who had to go see the school counselor because I wasn't dealing with my trauma." She laughed, shaking her head as she remembered how everything changed after that point.

Less time spent with cute boys who she could occupy her nights with and more nights spent with Derek and Cora. She could imagine a much worse life for herself. Although she was currently having a discussion about her life story with a stranger next to a dead body.

It definitely wasn't how she pictured college life for her. She thought more body shots, less dead bodies.

Scott stood to his feet, helping Lydia up. "I was sixteen too," he told her. "My best friend's dad is a cop, he said that a call came in that there was a body in the woods. We went to look for it, just two idiot kids wandering through the woods. We got separated and next thing I know, some wild animal tackled me, bit me and left me trying to find my own way home. The next morning, the wound had healed, and I just thought everything was fine until I realized I could hear things I never could and was a lot stronger. I just thought it was a really cool thing until the closer we got to the full moon, the more I realized that I had absolutely no control. I nearly killed my best friend the night of the first moon and it was after that, he would chain me up and lock in a basement until I was finally taught control," he explained.

Lydia sat there in silence for a moment. Derek and Cora had both lived with being werewolves. The idea of control was new to her. They were prepared for her to change, ready to lock her away if necessary, anything to keep others safe from her, but it never came to that. She never changed. She found herself watching him, the boy with the kind face, and tried to imagine him any other way. She didn't know him; she didn't even know his name. "I'm Lydia," she finally said.

"Scott," he said carefully.

She sighed, tugging at her hair uncomfortably. "I came into the woods to show a dead body to a boy whose name I didn't even know. Not exactly how I pictured college, or how I would spend my time," she admitted.

Scott smiled weakly. "Then avoid my best friend. He spends his spare time looking for things like this."

She managed a smile in response as she pulled her phone out. "And now this is where the police get involved," she said with a heavy sigh. "I hate this part."

Stiles was about to return to his room when a hand reached out, stopping him. "You think I wouldn't notice you hovering out here?" Allison Argent demanded.

Stiles held his hands up innocently. "No…?" He answered uncertainly.

Allison sighed impatiently. "What are you doing?"

Stiles stared around as if searching for an explanation before resigning himself to the fact that he couldn't get out of this one. "Is your roommate okay?" He finally asked, diverting the attention away from him for a moment as he scrambled for a good excuse. Then he frowned. "How did you know I was out here?" He wondered, studying her closely.

Allison smiled but it was more deadly than any smile Stiles had been on the receiving end of, and that was saying a lot for the awkward best friend who had never been great at talking to girls in the past. "You don't have a…. sixth sense type thing going on, do you?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at her as he tried to convey his meaning without coming out and saying the actual words.

She rolled her eyes. "No. I have a peep hole and you are not good at hiding," she told him, crossing her arms over her chest as she studied him carefully. "What did you mean by sixth sense?" She asked slowly.

Stiles grinned. "The movie, of course."

Allison frowned. "I don't see dead people. Wait…are you dead?" She said sarcastically.

Stiles shook his head. "No. But you did hear me out here," he pointed out.

She nodded seriously. "Yes. That is one of the five senses, in fact." Stiles scowled and she laughed. "I'm Allison Argent. And my roommate is okay. Or okay enough to go off with some guy at almost seven in the morning."

"Stiles," he said in response.

She titled her head to the side curiously. "Stiles?"

He shrugged. "It's a nickname." She opened her mouth to speak. "Don't ask, the first name thing is complicated. Just call me Stiles," he instructed.

She just nodded. "Okay Stiles," she said slowly. "What did you mean by sixth sense?" She asked.

Stiles eyes widened. "Oh, I, um, I just meant, well everyone has one, and I just figured, you know how it is," he sputtered uselessly.

Allison watched him squirm with more enjoyment than she should. Stiles finally quit speaking, just mouthing wordlessly, hands up to explain the unexplainable. He had nothing. Scott would have hated to miss this moment: Stiles was actually speechless. Allison finally smiled kindly. "I'm not a werewolf," she whispered.

Stiles started around the hallway, and even Allison noted the sudden activity in the halls as people filtered in and out of their rooms for the bathroom to begin their days. She bit the corner of her lip nervously before grabbing his arm and pulling her into her room. She pushed him onto Lydia's bed to sit, shutting the door behind her. She seated herself across from her on her own bed and watched him for a moment. "You're not either, are you?"

Stiles just gawked at her. She rolled her eyes. "Of course you're not. Then you would have heard me sneak up on you in the hall. No, you just know someone who is, don't you?" She smiled to herself as she realized it. "Yeah. So does your hovering outside my room and knowing about werewolves and the like have anything to do with the guy my roommate disappeared with earlier?"

This was not something that happened with Stiles often. Yes, he got tongue tied around pretty girls more than he was willing to admit, and yes, Allison Argent was on a new level of beautiful than he was accustomed to back home where he stood firm by the belief that they were just as beautiful, but there wasn't an instant attraction; just a curiosity that plagued him. Deaton knowing about Scott and the supernatural world was a shock, but not altogether surprising. But this was a girl in their dorm, with dark curls, a kind smile, and an aura of mystery who was questioning _him _about what he knew about werewolves. She wasn't new to this world. But she was also just as human as Stiles was.

He finally began to compose himself enough to answer her questions. "He's a werewolf. He was bitten three years ago," he finally answered, throat suddenly dry.

Allison wringed her hands together in her lap, staring across the room at a point above Stiles head. "My boyfriend was bitten two years ago," she admitted. "He wasn't my boyfriend at the time. I'm an Argent. There are certain expectations in my family. Needless to say, I nearly killed him. It was an interesting beginning to a relationship," she explained as vaguely as possible. It wasn't actually sharing time, just two humans bonding over being just that: human.

Stiles glanced around the room. It was a similar set up to his and Scott's room, with desks pushed into the corner, a shelf hanging over top with a light, the beds the next to them, against the wall, then the wardrobes on either side with two dressers between, a large mirror over top. The room was small, but cozy enough. Lydia's side was all bright colors while Allison's was pastel, comforting shades of greens and yellow. "Is your roommate one too?"

Allison frowned. "No. At least, I think I'd be able to tell. But she's…. something," Allison offered.

Stiles breathed out, pushing his hair back. "One hell of a screamer," he muttered.

Allison winced. "Yeah. That was different." She clasped her hands together in front of her and kicked her feet back and forth. "So what? Do you and your best friend just look into everything that screams supernatural?"

Stiles grinned widely, nodding his head emphatically. "Yep!" He said enthusiastically. "It's the one time I'm actually remotely useful. I'm small and my best friend is a werewolf, I don't have that going for me. But I can help out in the research area. It's that or provide the occasional sarcastic comment here and there," he added, forehead wrinkled with thought. He then cleared his throat. "So…werewolf boyfriend. That must provide some entertainment. You both have your time of the month."

Allison glowered in his direction. "I can hurt you," she said flatly.

Stiles shrugged. "Yeah. But you won't," he said confidently.

Her mouth twitched, nearly smiling. "No. It would be too cruel. You're defenseless."

Stiles didn't look too affected. He was about to speak again when his phone rang. He reached into his pocket. "Oh, it's Scott." He answered and Scott immediately began speaking, nearly too fast for Stiles to catch. "Woah, wait dude. Slow down. Did you say dead body?" He whispered. "Wait, what? She-dude, seriously? Did you call the-well, of course!"

He could actually sense Allison's frown and he hung up, turning to face her. "Our friends have stumbled across a dead body," he informed her.

Allison stood slowly to her feet. "Stumbled? Your best friend goes off with my best friend and they just…find a dead body?" She said her tone laced with doubt.

Stiles smiled anxiously. "Bad luck?" He suggested helpfully.

Allison scoffed. "Unlikely." She breathed out slowly. "So what? Are we going to get random, werewolf killings around here now too?" Her nose crinkled up as she considered that thought. "I was really hopefully to get away from that."

Stiles laughed in amusement. "We are ten miles out from Beacon Hills. There is a new death that can't be explained every other day there. People literally moved away because of all the random bodies found inside our school after hours. And we've been here for what, four weeks now? I'm surprised it took this long for it to happen," he said with a shake of his head. "Might as well resign yourself to the fact that the unexplainable is going to continue to happen. And those who know about all of this, like you and me, we'll be at the epicenter of every disaster. We can't help it. We're drawn to it. We thrive on the mystery and the danger. Y_ou're _from a family of werewolves and you knowingly get into a relationship with a werewolf. I would leave the safety of my house at night and go find something new and different to look into, despite being the most defenseless person in the world. We crave it. It's just who we are. You didn't even wander too far out of your territory just because you didn't want to leave that world behind. You wanted it close."

Allison smiled in spite of herself. "Okay. So we're both just unbelievably stupid?" She guessed.

Stiles grinned goofily. "It's who we are. Might as well live with it," he said happily.

Allison breathed out carefully. "Okay then. Want to get breakfast?"

Stiles couldn't help but think this was the beginning of a brand new, interesting friendship. If there was thing Stiles knew he could relate to, it was another human stuck in the middle of all the werewolf drama.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, this update took a bit longer than planned. Every time I got a spark of inspiration, it was for another moment that wouldn't take place for a while. My brain was not exactly feeling cooperative with me. But alas, I finally got this chapter finished! It's a little shorter than I intended, but half of chapter three is already written. I'm going to hopefully have a chapter posted every week, if my schedule and muse cooperates. Until then, I also have a Tumblr account where I either post sneak peeks if I'm not posting as soon as I hoped I would be, or where I basically just complain about my lack of inspiration.

But here is chapter two, enjoy!

* * *

It was a distraction, Lydia told herself as she entered her third party of the night, prepared to drink and just have some fun. She deserved it, she was only eighteen and has seen more dead bodies than any girl ever should. She has shouldered so much responsibility that she never wanted, all she wanted was for things to be different at college.

That was expecting far too much, she should have known better, but the least she could do was have fun when she wasn't wandering the woods with werewolves. She wanted to party and she wanted to at least pretend for a little bit that she had a normal life. She tried to convince Allison to come out with her, to let loose for once, but she passed, insisting on staying in the room. She promised her next time and Lydia had every intention to hold her to that. Maybe she could convince that boyfriend of hers to come out; maybe then Allison would be more comfortable going to a party.

Although even Lydia doubted that instinct, Allison Argent seemed the very independent type.

She moved through the party, frowning as she shoved against stubborn bodies refusing to budge to let her pass. Lydia was determined to get a drink. Her foot was crushed beneath countless feet and she grew more infuriated the further into the party she got. It was someone's off-campus place and from the size of the house, she was assuming it was not a scholarship student. It was nearly the size of her place back home.

If one more person crushed her toes beneath their oversized feet, she was going to lose it. Perhaps this was a mistake. She was far from thinking about bodies in the woods and werewolves and faceless men leaving a trail of the dead behind them, but she was definitely feeling more homicidal than usual. Her temper spiked as body after body pushed into her.

_How big is this house? _She thought exasperatedly. She felt like she was walking, but getting nowhere.

A large, sweaty hand landed on her shoulder and spun her around. She opened her mouth, ready to shout, hand curling into a fist, prepared to defend herself against some drunken creep. Instead she came face to face with Aiden, leering at her. Still a drunken creep, she considered, except this was one she had the unfortunate idea to sleep with in the past. "Didn't know you would be here," he shouted over the music.

Lydia's nose wrinkled as she tilted her head to him, trying to catch what he was saying. "What?" She cupped her hand around her ear and he leaned towards her, to repeat what he said. She sighed. "I wasn't planning to be."

She stepped away from him, trying to put some distance between them. She was honest with Allison when she said she needed someone other than Aiden. He was a poor distraction and she really disliked how when she was out with him, his eyes strayed to other girls. She preferred their attention being on her if they were going to be with her.

"You here alone?" He wondered, voice carrying curiously over the music.

She frowned, eyes scanning the crowd. She saw a mess of brown hair and kind eyes, and grabbed hold of his arm, pulling him over to her. "No," she said easily. "I'm here with him."

The guy stared between the two, brows drawn forward in confusion. His gaze landed on Lydia and his eyes widened in surprise. "I-what?"

She smiled sweetly. "You are my date to this party!" She said happily, keeping a tight grip on his arm. His eyes followed her hands to where they rested on his bicep. He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came, unable to tear his gaze away from Lydia.

She studied him closely, deeming him a good enough cover. She despised this trick but she also knew how determined Aiden is, she was not about to get stuck with him playing grab ass for the rest of the night before she could come up with an excuse to get away. Boys who boundary issues were her least favorite type. A guy can put his hands on her as much as they liked, but only if she wanted them to. She was pretty strict about that.

Which was why she was feeling beyond hypocritical at that moment, with her hands on a stranger, when he had no say in it. Then again, he was definitely not complaining, she considered, catching his eyes on her.

He was not bad looking, she thought, pleased with her decision. His hair stuck up and his smile was a little goofy, but all things considered, he was a good choice. She stepped closer and found he even smelled good.

Something about him though just seemed….safe. He was different. It wasn't like Scott, who just gave off the air of a good person, but he seemed the type who would be there. She couldn't explain it.

Aiden stared between the two, while the stranger steeled himself, face more confident as he stared back, standing his ground. Aiden just rolled his eyes and blundered off, probably in search of his next conquest. Lydia was definitely impressed and more than a little curious.

The stranger was about to extract himself from the more than uncomfortable situation, but she kept her grip on his arm. She couldn't talk, it was nowhere near quiet enough, but she was curious. He was smaller than Aiden but he hadn't even blinked. He had an odd sort of bravery to him that fascinated her.

He stood there awkwardly, feet shuffling back and forth. His eyes would move over her face then quickly dart away, focusing on the rest of the crowd. "Well," he finally said over the music. "My friend is waiting for me so…" he stepped back, watching her hand fall to her side.

Lydia pursed her lip as he shoved his hands into his pocket, offering her a comforting smile before rushing off.

Lydia watched him go and frowned, tugging her fingers through her hair as she stared around the room. She wished Allison were here to try and explain to her what the hell just happened. Was he upset that she so blatantly used to him? She thought it was the best thing to do in the moment. Aiden was not great at picking up on more than subtle hints. He hadn't caught on to the fact that she was completely bored of him. She could spell it out for him and he just completely ignores it or she could make him think she has moved onto another person. There was always a blatant disrespect for what the girl wanted but a weird understanding between guys. Did it infuriate her? Yes. But that didn't mean she couldn't use that knowledge to her advantage.

It was what Lydia Martin does. She uses what she knows, and she knows a lot more than most people ever will.

She sighed, finally moving and reaching the beverage table. She grabbed a bottle of water and her thoughts began to move away from the stranger, from Aiden and all the decisions she has made since she started school, and instead thought of the body in the woods.

She had meant to call Derek and tell him about it, but she wasn't sure how to start. He would worry, he always does. Lydia never wanted this life. She wanted to be a normal teenage girl, who sent to parties and studied and graduated from high school as valedictorian, without worrying about having a screaming fit in the middle of her speech because someone was dying. She didn't want to hear the voices of those suffering. She wanted to be able to concentrate in the middle of her political science class without hearing things that no one else could.

There was no reason to, not yet. There was no reason to get Derek to drive all the way two hours to a college he couldn't even believe she went to. Never mind explaining to him time and time again that she wanted to be as close to home as possible, because traveling further away from Derek and Cora to a place where she couldn't guarantee there'd be a single person who understood her…condition…was not something she was prepared to do. She wanted to be close because this area seemed to be overrun by the supernatural and that was exactly where she fits in now.

Yes, once upon a time she saw herself in an Ivy League college, studying to be the best in whatever field of study she chose. She had the whole world open to her. Lydia Martin was brilliant. She had a 5.0 GPA, a chance to get into any university she chose.

Instead, she stays as close to home as possible, going to a great college, but not one that struck anyone as outstanding. No, Lydia was outstanding. But she still went to a second rate college just so she that Derek and Cora would be within driving distance.

It was the safe choice. Every since that night on the field, Lydia always tries to make the safe choice. Agreeing to meet her date on the field was not safe. Him never showing up and she waking up days later in the hospital with little memory of what happened and her skin ripped open only served to prove that.

It wasn't that she was scared. It was that she knew monsters populated the world and she was not willing to take a chance of coming across another one completely alone. She woke up in the hospital with her parents talking to the doctors out in the hall and Derek by her side. That was what she wanted. She wanted to know that no matter what happened, Derek would be at her side.

There was also Scott. He was kind and…safe. She needed that. It allowed her to live as her life as she wanted, while also knowing she'd always have backup. Lydia was more than prepared to handle herself against some jerk. If some guy's hands wandered too much when she didn't want them to, she could put an end to that. But to come up against a werewolf, she was embarrassingly unmatched. She didn't get the strength or speed that typically comes from surviving the bite of an alpha. All she got was a serious headache and some imposing voices in her head.

She didn't want to call Derek. She wanted Derek close, but she didn't want him to worry when she wasn't sure he had to. Scott would learn more, she's find out what she can, and if it came down to it, she'd make the call.

Derek would be there as soon as she did. If there was one thing she could count on, it was Derek being at her side.

* * *

Stiles entered the party first, Scott following. "You sure your wolf senses are working? Why would some homicidal werewolf come here?" Stiles wondered, staring around, music so loud he was positive his brain was vibrating. He knew Scott would have no problems hearing him, but it was the fact that this place seemed to be more of a breeding ground for poor decisions that made him wondered if the homicidal werewolf would really come here.

Then again, it was easy pickings, wasn't it?

Scott turned to face him, grimacing. "I don't know! I just followed the scent!" He shouted, not having the privilege of speaking normally since Stiles didn't have super, werewolf hearing.

Stiles made a face but pushed through the crowd. He was about to turn to Scott to ask where exactly they were going but when he turned, Scott was gone. He sighed, rising to the tips of toes to try and find Scott. It was too dark and too loud to try so he finally just moved on, attempting to find Scott the more difficult way.

He was moving, jaw clenched tight as bodies shoved into him. Wasn't here a limit on how many people were allowed in a room? This was far too many, he thought, shoving back as knocked into him.

He was nearing the beverage table when a small hand wrapped around his arm and pulled him away. He stumbled forwards, eyes widening as he stared between the two, one much larger guy, and one much smaller girl, with familiar strawberry red hair. He frowned, trying to recall where he's seen it before. He did not recognize the girl, but he also could not tear his eyes away from her.

She was gorgeous, much shorter than him, and he suspected even shorter since he noticed she was in a pair of high heels. Her hair fell in soft curls down her back, her eyes wide, brown eyes fixed on him, and encouraging him to just go along with whatever game she was playing. She spoke, but he didn't quite catch what she said over the music. "I-what?" He sputtered.

Her lips curled upwards into a sweet smile and he was positive his heart dropped into his stomach. "You are my date to this party!" She insisted, grip tightening on his arm. He tried to speak, but words failed him. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, completely incapable of looking anywhere but her. Thoughts of finding his best friend were erased and everything was currently _this girl _with a sturdy grip and a smile that could light up the darkest corners of the world.

Stiles spared a glance for the guy standing there, glowering, but he couldn't even find it in himself to be scared of the much larger man, as his eyes landed on the girl again. He caught her eye, as she seemed to be appraising him, but he didn't feel self-conscious. All he felt was an overwhelming urge to pull her out of this room and learn everything about her. Where did she grow up, what was she like, what was her favorite color, did she prefer cats or dogs; his mind was stuck on this girl whose name he didn't know, who dragged him into the middle of what he guessed was her trying to give the other guy a hint to leave.

She stepped nearer to him and his body froze. He was completely aware of her. Her hair smelled like lavender and he decided then and there it was his favorite smell in the world. He wanted to memorize every detail. Her eyes were a light, beautiful brown that reminded him of summer and nights spent in the woods, getting into trouble as he stayed out past curfew. There were the slightest hints of green and hazel. They were the most mesmerizing eyes he has ever seen. He imagined her hair shone in the sunlight but even now it caught bits of light and it was definitely strawberry blonde, not red, just like he originally thought.

She was the most beautiful girl he has seen. So when he could feel the presence of the other guy, large and imposing, he turned to face him, face impassive and as intimidating as he could manage.

He wasn't sure if it was his threatening demeanor, since Stiles was pretty sure that guy could have easily hurt him without even blinking, but with a roll of his eyes he was gone so he considered it a job well done, nonetheless.

With that done, and the girl remaining steadily quiet, he went to move away in search of Scott but she kept her grip tight. He stayed still, frowning as she still continued to not say a word.

He stood there, moving back and forth. He didn't want to go…no, he was pretty sure he could happily stay by this girl's side and that was without even knowing her name. Still, he needed to find Scott.

He gazed at her for a moment longer before putting his attention on the crowd of people still dancing, still going on with their lives while his shifted completely. He needed to get away because he didn't know this girl, he had no way of knowing if this was just him being struck by the fact that she was the most beautiful girl he has ever seen or some part of him screaming that this was it. Maybe he needed a quieter place to sort it all out but there was no quiet reprieve in this place, the music seemed to take on a life of its own, reverberating through every crevice.

He drew in a deep, steadying breath. "Well," he began uncertainly, shouting over the music. She leaned towards to him catch his words. "My friend is waiting for me so…" he trailed off awkwardly, taking a step back and watching her arm fall to her side, pursing her lips as she nodded. His hands immediately went into his pocket, as he fought the urge to stay with her. He came here for a reason he had to remind himself. He smiled at her before leaving, pushing through the crowd.

Scott was in a corner, head tilted slightly to the side, frowning. "Dude!" Stiles called.

Scott lifted his head and smiled happily as Stiles approached him. "What happened? I totally lost you in there!" Scott yelled.

Stiles shrugged. "I got distracted. Found anything out?" He asked, glad to talk in a normal tone of voice.

Scott shook his head disappointedly. "No. I lost it. Maybe we should just go, the music is giving me a headache," he suggested.

Stiles sighed but agreed. They got outside and Stiles breathed a sigh of relief, but his head continued to pound from the music. His ears were going to need awhile to adjust anyways. At least one good thing came out of the party. He could still picture her face and he wanted to cling to that memory for as long as possible. "You were gone for awhile," Scott said, his voice breaking through his thoughts.

Stiles turned to face him, pushing his hair back as he shook his head. "There was a girl," he said. "Scott, this girl was perfect. Or…she was gorgeous. But there was just something about her."

Scott's eyes widened as his lips lifted into a grin. "You actually met a girl? And I missed it?" He stared past him, as if hoping he could see the girl.

Stiles shrugged a shoulder, raising his hands up helplessly. "I don't even know how it happened. Like, one second I'm trying to find out where you went, and next there's this hand dragging me over and there she is, all hair and gorgeous and attitude. She was trying to scare off some guy, I think…"

"And she used you?" Scott cut in incredulously.

Stiles paused, glaring at his best friend for a moment. "Thanks for the support buddy. No, the guy walked off, and I swear, we had a moment, the best moment of my life. This girl is special, I'm telling you."

"Special? That one is new," an amused voice ringed out from behind where they stood.

Scott gawked over Stiles shoulder while Stiles just stood there, frozen. "You're the girl?" Scott finally said.

Stiles frowned. "What?" He turned on the spot and his frown deepened. "What?" He repeated.

Lydia's eyes rested on Scott for a second and her eyes widened. "You two know each other?" She demanded. "How is that even possible?"

* * *

Lydia was reeling. She just wanted to find the stranger and learn his name. She wanted to know more about him. She didn't want to know _this_! Could the world possibly be this small?

Stiles eyes widened comically, staring back and forth between Lydia and Scott. "What?" He asked again, voicing rising and echoing around the empty street.

Scott laughed uncomfortably. "She's the girl from the other night. The screaming one," he reminded Stiles.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Great. The screaming one, let's hope that doesn't catch on as my new nickname."

Stiles clapped his head over the back of his neck, spinning around to stare at her incredulously. "You're the banshee!" He exclaimed.

Lydia stood there, gaping. "What, you told him?"

Scott managed to appear somewhat guilty. "I tell him everything," he said without shame.

Stiles nodded unnecessarily. "It's true, he does," he added.

Lydia's nose crinkled in frustration. She felt her temper rise but it wasn't so much anger at these two or the fact that she just wanted to talk to a normal guy and somehow she found one connected the world she wished she could escape. "Are you one too?" She asked, careful of what she said, as there was a burst of noise behind her a few people stumbled outside, laughing drunkenly. The door swung shut and the street fell silent again.

Stiles laughed. "No. Definitely no. I'm just the awesome, supportive best friend who has amazing research skills," he offered, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. "But I am also really good at keeping secrets, if that helps at all," he added, gesturing towards her, trying to assure her that he wasn't going to go around shouting that he knew a banshee, she assumed.

Lydia rubbed at her temples, trying to ward off a brand new headache that had little to do with voices of any sort and all to do with the two boys in front of her. It wasn't that they gave her the headache…it was the fact that no matter how she tried, nothing about Lydia's life was ever going to be _normal_. No matter how hard she tried.

She was surprised inside by how Stiles stood his ground, how he didn't cower away from Aiden, and instead she realizes it's because he has a best friend as a werewolf. _I nearly killed my best the night of the first full moon. _The memory of Scott telling her this gave new meaning to Stiles bravery. He watched his best friend shift, watched him become an entirely different person, something that didn't even look human, and then his best friend turned and tried to kill him.

Lydia understood now. Stiles appeared scrawny, but he has more strength than anyone would ever guess.

She laughed, and suddenly she found she couldn't stop. She stood in the middle of the alley, laughing, and the sound unlike her, bubbling out of her throat and spilling out before she could stop it. It was like trying to stop a wound from bleeding; the more she tried to staunch it, the more it continued to bleed out.

She covered her mouth with her hands, at least muffling the sound. Stiles stepped closer but didn't actually approach her while Scott stood by, confused. Her eyes were streaming as her lungs burned. The laughter finally began to subside and she clutched at a stitch in her side. "I-I'm sorry," she gasped. She took a few deep breaths, letting some oxygen return to her lungs and let her breathing even out before trying to speak again. "This is just insane," she finally said. "I come to college, trying to make some kind of attempt at being normal, and suddenly, there's a body in the woods left by some psychotic werewolf and I come out here to find you, only to find out that you're best friends with another werewolf! Can I not get away from it?" She exclaimed angrily.

Stiles opened his mouth to answer but then seemed to think better of it, and stayed quiet. Scott finally took a step forward. "We're ten miles out of Beacon Hills," he started. "You're going to find that everything weird is going to be difficult to avoid. And the only reason we're here is because I followed the scent from the woods to here." He sighed heavily. "Not that it matters, since I lost it. But still, Stiles is completely normal-"

"Hey!" Stiles interjected, looking offended as he rounded on his best friend.

Scott only rolled his eyes. "What I'm saying is, you probably aren't drawn to it. It's just really difficult to avoid."

Lydia crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "Is that supposed to help?" She wondered.

Scott seemed to consider her question for a moment. "I thought so," he finally said.

She dropped her arms, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth before answering. "Well, it did. In a way." She was silent for a couple minutes while Stiles and Scott stood there awkwardly. "Okay, what are we going to do?" She asked seriously.

Scott frowned. "Do?" He repeated.

She rolled her eyes. "Guys," she muttered. "Okay. There is a crazed werewolf out there, murdering people or changing people, depending on his mood, I guess. And you two seem to just jump into the middle of the action, so I'm assuming you two want to find him. I want to _help_. If you're telling me that this stuff is impossible to avoid and if I'm going to have to deal with finding dead bodies scattered around this campus, then I might as well make it be a thing I'm willing to do, instead of something that just happens. So I'm going to help," she explained.

Stiles lips upturned into a wide grin. "That is awesome!" He said, and she couldn't help but smile in return when his fist pumped into the air.

Lydia leveled the two of them with a serious look though. "There is just one thing you two need to know," she told them.

"What's that?" Scott asked, coming to stand in front of her.

She smiled proudly. "I'm smarter than the both of you combined." With that said, she flipped her hair over her shoulder as she turned, a triumphant grin spreading across her lips. The both of them stood there, Stiles mouth open in amazement while Scott just smiled. "Are you two coming?"

They followed dutifully and Lydia thought that maybe this wasn't going to be too horrible.

It could even be fun.


	3. Interlude - Lydia and Derek

_This is just an interlude, moments in time…mostly because my muse isn't exactly cooperating for the next chapter. I've started, deleted, started again so many times it's ridiculous. I know exactly what is supposed to happen and I have it plotted out, but I just need everything to just kind of come together. So this happened instead to try and build on and hopefully after this, Lydia and Derek's relationship will make more sense and hopefully chapter three will just click. So you get this and I hope it makes sense._

_For the sake of this fic, I'm going with Derek being at least six years older than everyone, so when Lydia was 16, Derek was 22, with Cora being a year older than Lydia. Just because the ages on the show are a little too confusing and so I don't know what, canonically, their ages are other than Allison, and everyone else's are just kind of guesses based off of birthdays and the fact that in first season, some were able to drive. But this is a quick Lydia/Derek one shot that goes with This Is the Beginning, so I needed to establish the age difference for obvious reasons, and just so there is an idea. _

_Also, Derek and Lydia have a very brother/sister relationship, which will be obvious here and in the actual fic._

* * *

Lydia Martin was five when she fell at the playground.

She was there with her babysitter, a seventeen year old that was much more interested in making out with her boyfriend that actually watching Lydia, who was a bit of a handful. But still, as Lydia fell, hard, to the ground she began to cry. There weren't loud cries, nothing that could draw the attention of her babysitter, who probably wouldn't come anyways. Her knee bled freely and she drew her leg in carefully, as she hiccupped, wiping pitifully at her eyes.

She turned her head, hoping no one saw her small moment of weakness, because even at five, Lydia had a strong sense of pride. Curls bounced against her shoulder as she finally stared at her new wound. She sniffled as more tears fell down her cheeks.

Some girl knelt in front of her and she looked up. "Are you okay?"

It was a girl close to her age with shoulder length brown hair and a kind face. Lydia nodded, bottom lip trembling. "I fell," she mumbled.

The girl turned her head. "Derek!" She shouted.

A shadow fell over them. "What?" A person asked.

"She fell," the girl said.

Derek leaned over the small girl, frowning. "What am I supposed to do?" He asked. "I don't have band aids. Where's your mom?" He asked carefully.

Lydia stared up at him, one of the older kids who stood off to the side, looking bored because they were too cool to enjoy the park. Now he just looked concerned. "At work. She doesn't bring me to the park. The babysitter does," she said, pointing to the furthest corner of the park where her babysitter was currently wrapped up in her boyfriend, not paying the smallest bit of attention to what was going on.

Derek sighed, frown deepening. Kids were not his area of expertise. Cora was more independent, never expecting his help, which didn't bother him much. "Come on. We can get it cleaned up, maybe someone has a band aid we can borrow," he told her gently and Cora helped her to her feet, leading her to the bathroom.

* * *

Derek Hale was sixteen and, in his opinion, much too old to put up with this.

Lydia had a large personality. It could grate the nerves of the most patient person in the world. Which Derek was beginning to suspect might actually be him. Lydia and Cora were close, but Lydia looked up to Derek. And once Cora and Lydia decided they were friends at the age of five and six, it fell to him to look after the pair.

As he shouldered the responsibility of taking them everywhere, Derek was shocked at learning just how much Lydia _read_. Cora was more than content to just hit something and she could not sit still, wanting to do _something_, never having the patience to get through a book. Lydia, however, would drag them to a library where she would beg Derek to get some books for her, because at ten, she was limited to only three and that just wasn't enough for her. She would get her books and he'd drive Cora and Lydia to the park. Cora was active, but Lydia was more constrained. She'd find a nice spot where other kids couldn't bother her and she'd read the entire time. She'd switch books, sometimes comparing, making connections that no other ten year old ever could, he thought.

When another child took one of Lydia's books and threw it, potentially ruining it, Cora and Derek were both ready to defend her. But Lydia pulled herself up, small even for ten, and fixed the boy with a deadly glare. When he didn't back off, threatening to throw another if she didn't move, she actually grabbed another book and began to hit him with it, shouting about how books were not for throwing (which Derek couldn't help but laugh since it seemed books did make a nice substitute for a weapon, however) and that he was a delinquent who would never get anything in life if he tried to take it by force.

The boy eventually gave up, deeming her crazy, and ran off to harass another kid.

Derek thought he was too old to deal with two kids, but he couldn't help but think it could be a lot worse.

* * *

Lydia was there when their house burned to the ground. She was ten and it was far beyond her understanding. The flames licked at the ground, the heat making her face burn. It was almost out but it didn't matter, the damage was done.

Derek stood by, hands shaking and wanting to run into the house but Lydia had to stop him. She was ten; she was not prepared for this responsibility. She wasn't prepared to watch Derek break.

Cora was gone. No one knew where she was. And the rest of Derek's family…they burned. Lydia couldn't wrap her mind around it. It was unimaginable…

"Derek," she whispered, voice wavering in the way a scared ten-year-old girl's voice would shake when faced with something she couldn't understand. Derek's family was dead. How is it that one minute, they are alive, and the next, just wiped away? Lydia thought of her parents, sometimes absent, but overall, loving and kind. She couldn't imagine a world where she didn't have her parents.

She always envied Derek for his family. It was so big, a constant flurry of activity, where people were always with him. She mostly spent her time with Cora and Derek but she met Derek's other sister, Laura, and Talia was always kind. Peter scared her a little but she knew that Derek loved his uncle.

She was only there because she was supposed to meet Cora. But Cora wasn't there. Where could she have gone? Eleven years old and off on her own, and the idea scared Lydia to the bone.

She stood there, shaking. She didn't know what to do. _She was ten_. She was just a kid. Derek was sixteen; he was the one in control. Lydia didn't know what to do when Derek wasn't able to take charge, to be able to assure her that it was okay, the bleeding would stop.

No. Lydia was terrified.

And when Derek disappeared a few days later, she wasn't surprised. She was just lonely.

* * *

Lydia was thirteen and climbing her way up the social ladder.

She was older, wiser, and more understanding of the world around her. At least, that is what she told herself at night as she wondered where Cora could be, gone without a trace. That's what she said when Derek still hadn't shown back up, remembering the devastation on his face, the set of his shoulders like the entire world had crashed around his ears and he alone was responsible for holding the pieces of it together.

It was a moment of fear because should he be alone? But Derek was sixteen and he was more than capable of holding his own. Not to mention that there was always a different kind of strength to him, to his own family, that Lydia could never begin to understand.

He could survive.

It just took her a little longer to learn how to do so without Cora and Derek at her side. But she was Lydia Martin. She got through anything. She had no choice.

She hurried outside after her last class of the day, seventh grade English, which she hated, and closed her eyes as the sun warmed her face. She always did love the warmer weather.

She took a deep breath, smoothing her hands over her dress, removing imaginary wrinkles and stepped down off the step, wondering if she was just going walk home…

The rumble of an engine tore her away from her thoughts. She glanced up and a bright smile lit her up her face. "Derek!" She shouted.

He was leaning against his car. He managed a smile but she didn't care that he wasn't as enthusiastic. She ran to greet him. "You're back!" She frowned. "Did you find Cora?" She asked immediately, mentally kicking herself as soon as she asked. Of course he didn't, she thought angrily. She'd be there, wouldn't she? No, he came back because his grieving had to end and maybe he had to accept that Cora had died. After this long, she'd be legally dead, wouldn't she? Lydia was sure she's read something about it somewhere…

He scowled but it wasn't at her. It was just a memory. "No Cora. She either ran when the fire started or…" Or she was somewhere, dead anyways, a twelve-year-old all on her own. Lydia didn't want to think about it. She couldn't bear to think about it.

Lydia nodded absently, familiar curls bouncing against her back. "Why'd you come back?" She wondered.

Derek shrugged. "It's my home," he muttered. "Come on, I'll drive you."

Derek was different. That was Lydia's observation, anyways; the last person left to know what Derek Hale was like. He was not the Derek that she knew three years ago, who had a family that loved him. This Derek was alone.

Lydia might not be his family by blood, but growing up, she had looked up to him. Perhaps she could make sure he wasn't alone anymore. Maybe she could make him smile. His face had a tense look of a person who hasn't smiled in ages, she couldn't help but notice. It was the same look her aunt had after her husband died. Her lips pursed into a straight line, jaw clenched as if afraid a smile would come to her lips and betray the emotions that were eating her up inside, the way her shoulders never seemed to relax.

The devastation was gone but that weight on his shoulders still sat, heavier than ever. Lydia drew her bottom lip between her teeth anxiously. Everyday since the fire she had worried that Derek, like his family, had burned up in his desire to find who did it, to find his sister, or to find some justice in one way or another. There was a funeral but there was no Derek there. She just remembered seeing it in the paper that her dad read every morning, the headline, the 'no foul play suspected.' Lydia hadn't believed it. She didn't know why or how but something had felt wrong about it.

Every time the Hale House was brought up, her skin turned to ice that not even the fire from the house could have melted. It felt _wrong_ that night and she could not escape that feeling, not at ten, not at thirteen, and probably never.

She didn't share these doubts with Derek. He probably already had the same suspicions, so why bother bringing up something that could only be painful for him?

"What did you do while you were gone?" She asked timidly.

Derek sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, as he turned onto her street. "I looked for Cora. I looked for answers. And I got none. There's nothing left, there's nothing to be found. Cora is _gone _and it was an electrical problem. There was nothing to find." He stopped outside her house.

Lydia could see her mom moving around with a restless energy, desperate to get the house clean, desperate to occupy her time without a job. "It doesn't feel like she's dead," Lydia whispered. "It would feel different, wouldn't it?"

Derek shrugged. "I thought so." He was quiet for a moment. "Just be careful, okay?" He told her seriously.

Lydia nodded solemnly. Something was definitely off, not just with Derek, but also with _everything_. Nothing felt like it was right anymore. "I'm glad your back," she said sincerely.

He managed what almost resembled a smile at that and she jumped out of the car, his warning feeling more ominous as his engine rumbled and the car pulled away.

* * *

She was fifteen. She didn't feel fifteen. There were moments where she still felt like that ten-year-old girl, begging Derek to take her to the library, ignoring his eye rolls because she wanted books. Or that ten-year-old girl who stood outside the Hale House, watching it burn, flames hot and persistent, eating everything in their path, hungry for destruction.

She certainly didn't feel like she in high school, wearing heels that gave her a few extra inches to her short stature, yelling at Derek for tracking grease into her house, ignoring his quips about her social life. He was that annoying big brother she never wanted but somehow appreciated. She thinks he needed an annoying little sister because he no longer had one.

Sometimes she heard whispers at school.

They say Derek Hale is the one who burned down the house, that he went crazy one day, and just burned it to the ground. _No, that can't be true, it was electrical issues…and even if her gut was right, who would cover for Derek Hale? He didn't have those kinds of connections, that kind of money._

No, it couldn't be true because Lydia saw that look on his face. That fire destroyed everything in its path and it destroyed Derek along with it. He may not have been in that house, but a part of him was, and that part was long gone.

Lydia was sitting in an empty classroom during lunch, doodling at the top of her notes, listening to people moving around in the hallway. The school was too busy with too many people. It was frustrating for her. She was smarter than everyone, she'd be willing to take a guess that she was smarter than most of the teachers in this school. There was no challenge for her.

The door creaked open carefully and she was about to tell the person to please go away, she was in no mood. But then the door slammed shut and she jumped, a scream caught in her throat, startled out of her seat.

That, however, was nothing compared to the shock of what she saw then. If she was a bit weaker minded, or in one of those old movies where the women's corsets were always too tight, she probably would have fainted. Instead, she was steady, completely still, eyes wide. "Cora," she whispered.

And just like it was with Derek two years ago, this was not the Cora she remembered.

This Cora was all harsh lines, defiant stares, and defensive stances. It wasn't as if Cora was the friendliest person to begin with but this person looked ready to attack. Except she sought Lydia out… "What are you-where have you-does Derek know?" Lydia finally managed, her thoughts coming faster than she could speak.

Cora shook her head. "No," she said as if it were obvious. "Do you think I'd be here if Derek knew I was back? He'd be playing 100 questions and I would have no means of escape. No, I came here. And you are skipping school because you're smarter than these jackasses anyways, and you're going with me so I don't have to face Derek alone," she explained.

Lydia wanted to scoff. She wanted to laugh. The _'Am I?_' was there, poised on her tongue. But she couldn't. Because Cora was standing in front of her, alive and breathing, and Lydia just felt relief. There was a weight on her chest she wasn't even aware of that lifted at the sight of her, standing there, arms crossed over her chest, waiting. She was hardened but she was alive. Lydia didn't hug her. She wanted to but a part of her sensed that if she tried, Cora would react, probably violently. Lydia wasn't the hugging type, anyways.

So she agreed and they left for Derek's loft.

Derek was pale, certain he was seeing a ghost. Lydia put a hand on his shoulder. She remembered last year, finding him living in his old, burned up home. He was living with his demons. She insisted he find a place and she was glad more than ever that she had, because the idea of having to bring Cora to her old home was unbearable. She couldn't have done it.

After sitting Derek down and Cora seated across from him, Lydia made herself scarce, sitting in the corner. Cora spoke for the next two hours. She didn't go into details about her time away. She was outside when the flame started. She screamed and she fought but she couldn't get inside. There were people there, people who lit the house up.

Lydia had a moment of clarity. _I knew it_, she thought but the voice was angry and bitter and vengeful. The voice didn't want to be right. She never wanted to be right about this.

Cora was eleven and she was scared, so she ran. She ran as fast as she could and she didn't look back. She ended up far from home and she found…people. She said this with a cautious glance at Lydia. She had to fight for survival. It took years to gain courage to get away, to get back home.

And now here she is.

Lydia frowned. "Why would someone want to kill your entire family?" She finally asked, the question, now that she knew her gut feeling was correct, that haunted her.

Derek sighed and Cora fidgeted and then they explained to her the truth, the story of the Hale family.

It was a lot to take in.

Lydia struggled with the truth. _Werewolves_? There is no such thing! How? How was it possible? How did werewolves roam the woods of a small California town without anyone's knowledge? There weren't wolves in California! Lydia would think people would notice, wouldn't they?

She shut her eyes. Maybe if she kept them shut tightly enough, she'd wake up, and this would all be a terrible nightmare, and she would not have two best friends who were also _werewolves_.

No, she thought fiercely, don't think about it. Don't. It won't help anything.

She was crazy. That was the only explanation.

Or they were crazy. But that couldn't be because Cora was proving their point by shifting, yellow eyes gleaming through the growing darkness of Derek's loft. Ears point and nails elongated and – _oh my god their werewolves_!

Lydia was reeling. She could barely breathe. This was a trick, a joke. A sick, cruel, very well executed joke.

She thought maybe she _would_ pass out this time.

Her breathing eventually returned to normal, her heart stopped pounding against her ribcage, and suddenly she could hear something other than her blood rushing through her head. The rational portion of her brain was still saying that this was not possible, it couldn't be. But she had irrefutable proof. They had the strength, the speed, the hearing, the agility, and all. It was possible and it was true.

So they took her out for dinner to try and convince her they were still the same people she knew and loved and took in as her second family.

* * *

There was shouting.

So much shouting, so much blood, so much…_so much_…

Lydia tried to raise her head, but it was too heavy. Her arm was outstretched to a point she couldn't reach. _"Lydia!_" Someone was shouting desperately, trying to reach her. She was being moved and pain tore through her body at such an intense degree that she nearly screamed. Except she couldn't, it was stuck in her throat…she was going to die of blood loss before anything.

It came out of nowhere. One minute she was on the lacrosse field in her nice dress, where her date promised to meet her. But he didn't come. But something else did.

The person shook her and all it did was send new shockwaves of pain through every inch of her body. "_Don't, you're hurting her!_" A voice scolded whoever was holding her.

"_But at least then we know she's alive!_" The other person snapped angrily. "The ambulance is coming. Just keep breathing. Don't die. Please don't die," the person begged. "Don't die. Don't."

Lydia didn't remember anything after that. She woke up with a sense of discomfort and a pain in her left side demanding to be acknowledged. She groaned, trying to lift her head. She felt heavy. She turned her head one way and saw Cora curled up by the window and Lydia almost laughed at the sight. She could see her mom and dad out in the hall, speaking in low voices to the local sheriff, a middle-aged man with a round stomach, and a no business attitude. He hated teenagers, she thought. They looked angry and he looked exhausted. As she turned to the other side, she saw Derek, asleep with his head pillowed on his arms at the edge of her bed.

She once again struggled to sit up and groaned once more, fresh waves of pain rolling over her body. The movement woke Derek, who raised his head slowly, blinking as he stared around the room.

Cora, however, jumped to her feet, alert. That was Cora though. She was jumpier, ready for an attack that never seemed to come. Her hands were curled into fists, eyes darting around the room. Lydia managed a weak smile. "We're not under attack," she mumbled, voice dry and weak.

Cora's face softened and she moved to her side, grabbing the pitcher of water and a cup, pouring her some. "Here," she said quietly. Cora wasn't used to doing things nice and when she did, she did it awkwardly. But Lydia gave her credit for trying. Lydia just considered herself lucky she was one of the people Cora tried to be nice to.

"What happened?" She wondered, wincing.

Derek and Cora exchanged worried glances. Lydia felt her pressure spike anxiously. "Derek," she said, voice wavering slightly but still demanding. "What is it?" She ground out through clenched teeth.

Cora sighed heavily. "You were bitten."

Lydia nodded slowly. "Bitten," she repeated. "By an animals, or what?" She looked between the two helplessly. She hated feeling helpless. She wanted to feel strong, to feel confident. She didn't want to be lying in a hospital bed, uncertain of what would happen. "_By what_?"

Derek scrubbed his hands over his face, looking exhausted. "By a werewolf."

She nodded slowly. "Okay. So what does that mean?"

Cora sat down. "Anything. You're alive…barely. So you lived. So that probably means you'll…"

"Shift," Lydia finished numbly. "I'll shift. I'll be one of you."

Cora nodded. "More than likely. But it'll be better for you that most. You have us. That is more than a lot of people have," she tried to assure her.

Lydia felt her temper rise though, a hot heat washing over her. Angry, hot tears spilled down her cheeks faster than she could stop them. "I feel better now!" She said heatedly, ignoring the pain as she forced herself to sit up. "I don't want this," she said through clenched teeth.

Derek wouldn't look at her. "I don't think you have much of a choice at this point," he said, staring at his hands.

Lydia shook her head back and forth desperately. "No!" She shouted and all eyes went to the hall but her parents and the sheriff were gone from sight. "_I can't be_!" She insisted. She threw the covers back. "I haven't even healed! And if I do, the last place I want to be is in a hospital! This is just…this isn't possible. It's not possible. How did this happen?" She demanded tearfully.

She couldn't look at them. Her hands shook and she curled them into fists, trying to stop. She felt weak.

She could see Derek shaking his head out of the corner of her eye. If she turned her head, she'd see lines of misery etched into face, like a cruel sculpture. Lydia was just as much his sister as Cora. He wanted to protect them both but he has failed, time after time after time. He felt responsible. It was a feeling he couldn't shake.

Guilt formed itself around his heart like ice. It could potentially squeeze the lift out of him. He thought his heart could possible stop, completely frozen.

He could apologize but what good would it do him? She was alive and to him, that was the gift. And there was a time when he believed that it would be a gift to be like him and Cora. Stronger, more capable, faster, and so much better in every way possible; they were harder to kill, which meant they were safer. But they were also larger targets. People out there who happily hunted them down. It was the reason he watched his house burn. All because the Hale's were werewolves and for that, they had to die. Did he really want Lydia to spent the rest of her life, looking over her shoulder with a target on her back?

Lydia pursed her lips together, a nervous habit, before pushing herself up. Cora and Derek both moved forward nervously. "What are you doing?" Cora hissed, glancing to the door.

Lydia pushed passed them, ignoring the pain. "I'm going to the bathroom. If my parents or the doctor come back, tell them I'm practicing how to howl," she snapped and slammed the door behind her.

* * *

The wound eventually healed and Lydia never shifted. Derek and Cora were anxious, waiting…and waiting…but never any sign that anything would happen. Lydia couldn't deny the relief that washed over her, but Derek and Cora grew more and more nervous as time went on. The full moon came and went…still _nothing _seemed different.

It was possible Lydia was immune. It couldn't have been the first time. She was lucky. That had to be it.

Lydia sat in class, hand cupping her chin, staring blankly at the chalkboard.

The teacher was droning on about something or another and any other day, she'd be paying attention, but she knew the material, and she just couldn't focus.

And her head was just _pounding_.

It felt as if someone were taking a hammer to her temple and hitting her repeatedly. She scowled, rubbing at her temples tiredly. This was driving her insane. And it was just growing louder and louder and soon she couldn't hear the teacher talking, couldn't hear the sounds of pencil on paper as people scribbled down notes.

All she could hear was…shouting. There was so much shouting.

She looked around but there was nothing.

The noise grew and grew until she could barely think…barely breathe. And then…

She screamed.

It was loud and shrill and so unlike her normal scream. But as she did, her mind cleared, and she knew it, could _sense_ it. Someone was dead. Someone had just died, someone was no longer breathing, no longer existing. She didn't know why or how but the feeling gripped her insides and it was terrifying.

As she quit, everyone was staring at her. Lydia Martin, the girl who had only recently returned to school after an animal attack, was now screaming like a mad woman in the middle of class.

She stared around the class, eyes wide. And she left. She left her things, her bag, her book, everything and ran. And by the time she reached the doors, Derek was there, hearing the scream, his heightened senses hearing it all the way to his apartment. He has never run faster. "What happened?" He demanded.

Lydia ignored him, moving on along. "Lydia?" He repeated but she still continued to ignore him. He just accepted she wasn't going to answer and he followed her. She was walking for about ten minutes before she finally stopped, raising her hand to point. "What?" He asked, patience reaching the end of the tether. He just looked frustrated.

Her hand shook slightly. "Someone is dead. Inside that house," she insisted.

He frowned then. "What?" He turned to stare at the house. But then he smelled it…blood. His frown deepened. "That's not possible," he muttered, moving forward. But as the reached the garage, there it was. A body lying in blood, a hammer left next to him.

Lydia gasped in horror, turning away before the image was ingrained into her memory. "Oh, god," she whispered.

"But you knew?" Derek asked, puzzled.

She shook her head. "I don't know!" She cried. "I heard something. But no one else seemed to and then I just screamed, and I just got this…feeling. I _knew _someone was dead and I knew where to go and that's it," she insisted. "I don't know how or why or anything except that there was a dead body, okay?"

She shut her eyes for a moment, trying to find some explanation to this but coming up empty. "Call the police. I have to go. I can't be here," she told him and she hurried out of the garage, away from the house. Derek was reaching for his cell and trying to follow her, but by the time he got outside, Lydia was halfway up the street. He could follow her but she left him with a dead body and there would be questions from the police to answer.

He cursed, very nearly throwing his phone in frustration.

_What the hell was going on_? He wondered, but he suspected this was only the beginning of something new and different and completely unexpected.

* * *

_And that is the end of that._

_It's not my favorite but it'll do. I just wanted to establish this relationship. Cora wasn't on the show long enough for me to explore her character, so basically, her's and Lydia's friendship is important. Cora would kill for Lydia. But Cora would also refuse to go shopping with Lydia and instead would make Derek do it because it was his turn and honestly, they both love Lydia, she is their sister no matter what._

_I just really love the relationship between the three in my head and I want to do it justice. And I just wanted to give it some background while also trying to figure out how to get chapter three to bend to my will and do what it I want it to do, while also trying to have some creative freedom. But if I stray too much, I'll have to change some things around. Also, I'm staying somewhat close to canon, like Derek's house burning down. But the show and it's timeline confuses me, so Cora ran away because she was young when it happened (because she doesn't have an established age either?) and werewolf family or not, that'd be scary for any person. _

_Just bear with me. I hope it all makes sense in my new Teen Wolf world._


	4. Chapter 3

_Okay, chapter 3 here, brought to you by the mind of a girl who really needs to do a better job of writing ahead. But I hope this chapter isn't complete crap, anyways. And for the record, any moments where Stiles doesn't seem very Stiles like is because I have taken a few liberties with these characters and the new worlds I've created for them in my head. Which will all be explained through lovely little interludes and such. And I'm bringing in a few familiar faces in both this chapter and the next, so that's always a fun thing. _

_And there will be more Stydia, I promise on all that is good and wonderful in this world._

* * *

Allison Argent was more than a little frustrated as she stomped up the stairs to her sixth floor dorm room.

The elevator was down, because apparently maintenance at this school thought it was laughable to just _not _fix things. She is more than capable of walking up six flights of stairs, but she wanted to curl up in her bed and sleep for at least fourteen hours. Instead, she was making her ascent up the stairs when she shouldn't have to, and trying to remember why she thought taking an English course on _horror _stories was a good idea. She lives in one.

She dug her phone out of her purse and checked for the fifth time. There were no missed calls, no missed text, and she was sure her phone was mocking her at this point. She had just gotten off the phone with Isaac an hour before and the call didn't end on the best of terms…unless Isaac telling her that he was more than capable of taking care of himself and hanging up on her when she argued was considered ending _well_.

No, he was going home. And while, yes, Allison helped him find a job to afford an apartment to get out of his house and away from that monster he called a father, and yes, he _was_ more than capable of taking care of himself, and there was nothing his father could actually do to him, she still worried. It was in her nature.

She pushed her fingers through her hair tiredly and ground her teeth together as she thought of Isaac's father. He would be the first on her list people she would happily put an arrow through but Allison Argent was not a murderer and she didn't pick up her arrows anymore. She made a promise to her dad. _Ever since her aunt…_

But no, Allison didn't think about that. They haven't heard from her in months and Allison sometimes wondered if her past didn't catch up with her. Allison loved Kate, but the things she did, they were unthinkable. She shivered involuntarily, memories of whispered arguments, talk of fires, and her dad throwing his sister out of the house for good coming to the forefront of her mind. It wasn't a pleasant memory. Kate screamed and Allison thinks maybe her aunt had lost her mind.

Allison pushed the memories away. It made it easier to put it behind her, move on and rebuild. Or that's what her dad said. Her mom preferred to not speak of it at all. Pretend it didn't happen and it would eventually go away. Lock it into a box and put it away where it would gather dust.

Allison was exhausted by the time she reached her dorm, legs feeling heavy, head beginning to pound. She pushed on the door and heard the familiar creak, as it swung open. She moved inside, kicking off her shoes as she went, not even glancing up as she moved a little further into the room. It was when she heard the voices stop abruptly that she finally raised her head to see Lydia, a guy who looked vaguely familiar, and Stiles all piled into the room.

Lydia and Scott were on Lydia's bed, Lydia against the pillows, Scott with his back against the wall, while Stiles were perched on the heating unit in the window that didn't actually put out any heat. His arms were crossed over his chest, scowling. But when she walked in and they turned to look, his face brightened just a little – a friendly face. "Hey guys…" Allison said slowly, shutting the door securely behind her, getting the sense that this wasn't just a casual visit, the three of them looking grave, even Stiles underneath his large grin. "What's going on?" She asked casually, dropping her keys onto her own dresser and sitting on the edge of her bed.

Lydia and Scott exchanged an uneasy glance until Stiles took a deep breath and leaned forward. "Well obviously we're discussing the dead body in the woods that was the result of a very obvious werewolf attack. Scott caught onto a familiar scent from the crime scene and he tracked it to this party Lydia was at tonight but then he went and lost it. Now we're trying to figure out if there is a way that I can go home for the weekend, get into my dad's personal files at the Sheriff's station, and see if they've discovered _anything _about what is happening, and then we can hopefully come up with a plan from there. If not, then Scott and I have been in much tougher situations and I'm sure we can probably come up with something to figure out who is leaving dead people in the woods." He felt Scott and Lydia staring at him incredulously. He shrugged his shoulders. "What? She's hunted werewolves!" He grinned more widely. "Oh! You can help!" He considered.

Allison laughed. "I gave up the hunting business ages ago," she pointed out. Scott was gaping at Stiles while Lydia was frowning at Allison. "There was a good reason for it," Allison added helpfully.

Stiles moved to sit next to Allison, swinging an arm around her shoulder. "Allison and I bonded over our shared interests," he said. Allison laughed. The other two continued to look on in confusion. "Look, in all seriousness, there is someone out there. A big, bad something that we don't exactly want roaming the campus, where we intend to live for the next four years of our lives. And if we are going to have any hope of finding it, I say our best chance will be having a person who actually knows how to start looking, how to track it, without just sniffing around a crime scene, hoping to catch a scent that we just end up losing," he explained firmly, staring directly at Scott, knowing if anyone would understand their need for help, it'd be him.

Allison sat there, thinking carefully. Stiles made a good point. She could help…and her hands were itching to pick her bow and arrow back up, to shoot again…to have a purpose. Allison turned away from Stiles to stare imploring at Lydia and Scott. "I know this is weird for you," she said to Lydia. "And I don't know you," she added to Scott. "But I can help. I know how to track and I know how to trap whoever it is that's doing this. I made a promise to my dad that I'd stop. We are out of the business. But I don't want to wake up one morning and find out that someone I know is dead and I could have helped. I _want_ to help," she insisted. "And I know how to defend myself. Better than him, I'm guessing," she said, with a pointed nod in Stiles direction.

He shrugged, nodding his head. "I'd be offended but she's probably right. She has a weapon's trunk," he pointed out, to help her argument.

"Okay, wait a minute!" Lydia finally said, seeming to find her voice again, as she stood to her feet. "How does he know you have a weapon's trunk and I, your roommate and best friend, doesn't even know you can use weapons?" She demanded.

Allison stared up at her, wringing her hands together anxiously in her lap. "We weren't exactly that sharing phase of the friendship. At least, not this kind of thing. You didn't tell me your connection to the whole werewolf community thing. Stiles only learned the other day. But I don't typically start any new acquaintance with 'Hi, I'm Allison, do you want to see my weapon's collection?'" She said heatedly. Then sighed, smiling uncomfortably. "I'm sorry. I'm new to the friendship thing. The closest friend I had growing up was my Aunt Kate and that just…" she sighed again, scrubbing her hands over her face, the exhaustion making her bones feel heavy. "I'm not great at making friends. I didn't want to scare you off," she admitted softly.

Lydia smiled apologetically. "I guess we both kept secrets," she said. She glanced between Allison and Stiles curiously, the closeness between them, her eyes narrowed. "So you two met when…?" She wondered.

Allison smiled. "When you and Scott were out looking for a dead body," she finished. She leaned back on the palm of hands for a moment, thinking carefully. "Look, if what you guys said is true, and it's a werewolf doing this, they aren't great at covering their tracks. I should be able to pick something up, find out where exactly it's heading. And if this one has killed before, then if Stiles could get into his dad's personal files, we might be able to discern a pattern in those kills. And if you guys do that, I can be figuring out where it'll be next, what it might do, and we can trap him," she explained to them.

Scott leaned forward hopefully. "Trap him? How?" He wondered.

She smiled confidently as she stood to her feet. She crouched down and drug out a chest, beautifully crafted, Lydia couldn't help but notice. She stood back up and dug through her drawers for a moment before withdrawing a key from the bottom. She sat back down, rocking on the balls of her feet, and unlocked it. She drew something out that Scott and Lydia couldn't see but Stiles stared curiously at. "What is it?" He wondered.

"An emitter," she told him, setting two down onto the bed. "An ultrasonic emitter, to be more correct. Scott will be able to hear it, and if what we're tracking is anywhere nearby, we'll be able to get him to go wherever we want."

She put another thing down onto the bed next to them. Stiles immediately picked it up. "And this?"

Allison stood slowly. "That," she said slowly. "Is an electroshock weapon, similar to a cattle prod, except a much higher voltage, so just…put it down and don't touch anything," she suggested, biting her lip. Stiles did so carefully, with an apologetic frown as he did so.

Lydia came to stand behind her, staring into the trunk. "That is a lot of weapons," she observed, voice low and appreciative. "I like it."

Scott looked confused. "Are you allowed weapons like that in a dorm room?" He wondered.

Allison shrugged. "I don't know. I don't have any guns," she said with a smile. "That should count for something." She ran a finger over her bow longingly. She could picture raising the arrow, steady hands, aiming where she wanted, pulling the string back, and releasing. She could hear it whistling in the wind. She could picture it burying itself in its target.

She missed it. She longed to go out into the woods and practice. It was cathartic. She knew she could still practice and probably should if she was going to take back up old habits. But she packed away that part of her life and with it, the bow and arrow, the knife set, everything that came with that life.

And if she brought that trunk to school with her, it was only because at her mother's insistence that she would feel safer knowing her daughter had the means to protect herself.

She lifted it up carefully. "I need to practice."

Stiles perked up. "You think you'll need to use it?"

Allison shook her head. "I don't just have to shoot arrows to hurt. I have these." She raised a smaller item. "A flash bolt. I attach it to the arrow and he can't see. I have plenty of things to smoke this thing out and I intend to pull out all the stops," she told them seriously.

Scott finally stood to his feet. "Good." Everyone turned to look at him, eyes breaking away from Allison's weapon collection for the first time since she got it out. "Because I fully intend on stopping him before he kills anyone else."

* * *

Scott and Stiles headed back to their dorm room not long after that, a plan to meet up outside in an hour. If they were going to hunt thing down, they might as well go back to the beginning to do so. Stiles scrubbed his hands over his face tiredly. "So, Allison?" Scott began curiously.

Stiles scoffed. "Dude, no. She's cool and all but not my type," he insisted.

Scott nodded. "Right. You prefer red heads," he guessed with a sly smile.

"Strawberry blondes, actually," he said before he could stop himself.

A grin spread slowly across Scott's face. "You are completely into Lydia," he laughed.

Stiles shook his head. "No. I've just already thought of how beautiful our future will be. It's a plan. I'm not completely into her for another month or so, just so it's a lot less creepy," he promised.

Scott continued to laugh and Stiles sighed. "It's just, I don't know," he dragged his over his face, head shaking dejectedly. "There was just something about her. But what does it matter? I can't compare."

Scott's smile faltered just slightly. "You aren't giving yourself enough credit."

Stiles shrugged. "Hey, there'll be plenty of time to think about this later. We have a crazy, homicidal werewolf on the loose and we are the only hope for this town," he reminded him.

Scott sighed. "God help this town then."

Stiles look offended. "I take that personally. We have Allison and Lydia, so we might actually stand a chance," he pointed out.

Scott did agree as they walked into their own room. Stiles threw himself onto his bed with a sigh.

He laid there in silence for a few minutes, face buried in his pillow. "We were nothing in high school," he said quietly, voice muffled.

Scott glanced over at him curiously. "What?"

Stiles sat up, motioning to Scott. "Before you were bitten that night in the woods, we were invisible. You had asthma and I was just that annoying kid getting sent to the office because I couldn't shut up. And then you were bitten and we were just _slightly _less invisible. That's what it is. I had a smart mouth. That was my legacy. Not my accomplishments, not being on the lacrosse team, none of it. I just want to feel like I'm doing something while I'm here, you know?" He explained.

Scott frowned. "You weren't just the kid with the smart mouth, Stiles. People might not know what you did but you helped save lives. And you're going to do the same here. That's what we do. And it's what we'll continue doing. The only difference between now and high school, is that it's not just Deaton and me who will know," he reminded him.

Stiles thought over his words, staring at the covers over his bed until the pattern was burned into his eyes and he couldn't blink it away. He was no stranger to the feelings of self-doubt that plagued him. He was sure it part of the whole 'your best friend is a werewolf and better at everything' package that neither of them signed up for in the first place. It just put them in a difficult spot where Stiles ability to help his best friend only went so far. He had no enhanced senses, no speed, no strength, and his research skills could only do so much.

He just felt…_useless_ sometimes. Like Scott was fighting battle after battle and Stiles was sitting on the sidelines, sometimes his own neck at risk with no capacity to defend it. And he couldn't rely on Scott, not every time. He might have _helped _save lives but Scott actually did the work and he was proud of that, he was proud of what they accomplished; he just sometimes felt like he was holding Scott back from what he could truly achieve without having to worry about Stiles, poor, defenseless Stiles. It wasn't fair to him and it wasn't fair to anyone whose life was possibly at risk.

Or that was what Stiles thought in some of his darker moments.

"Stiles?" Scott began uncertainly.

He always had his moments of doubt but Scott was always his own sort of clarity. If Stiles expressed any misgivings about his usefulness to Scott and what he was trying to do, he'd argue until Stiles gave in. That's how it worked. Scott wanted Stiles at his side always, even when they were _nothing _at Beacon Hills High School, even when Scott became _something_, and even now.

Stiles might have just realized that two other people have joined to help stop whatever was killing students and out of them, they had a werewolf, a banshee, and a hunter who seemed exceptionally good at what she did. And the doubt he was currently feeling in that moment stemmed from the fact that out of the four, he was the only one who actually had _nothing _to offer other than staying up all night researching anything he can.

And considering that he still had a paper due on socioeconomics on Wednesday, he wasn't going to be doing a whole lot of research on werewolves, anyways.

* * *

Lydia sat on the bench in front of the dorm room, tapping her feet impatiently. Allison watched her, barely masking her incredulity. "We are going into the woods where you found a dead body and you wear heels?" She finally asked.

Lydia shrugged a shoulder, pushing her hair off her shoulder. "I can _run_ in these things. That is what matters. I basically learned to walk in them and plus, it gives me a height advantage that the rest of you already have," she explained as if it were that simple.

Allison laughed quietly. "Okay. Do you own flat shoes?" She wondered.

Lydia laughed with her, shaking her head. "Not a pair," she admitted.

The two girls fell quiet. Lydia glanced up at the sky, watching as the light faded as the sun dipped below the trees. The sky was streaked with pink as the sun reflected behind the clouds. It was getting dark; they wouldn't have long out there.

Lydia pursed her lips together. "I wish we could have been honest with each other," she finally said. She laughed breathlessly. "We have been roommates for four months now. And you were hiding weapons under your bed! Some pretty impressive ones too."

Allison smiled softly. "And you scream when a person is killed in a vicious attack, or something like that. I did some research on banshees. We both have our secrets and I'm willing to bet, we both have more we're keeping," she said, avoiding Lydia's eye. "Things that I want to tell you," she added.

She turned to completely face Lydia. "I _don't_ want to keep things from you. I want us to be honest and I don't want to be best friends with a person and wondering what we're keeping from each other."

Lydia nodded slowly. "We'll talk, we'll work everything out. I _promise_," she insisted. "But the guys should be out here any minute." She sighed. She rubbed her fingers at her temples tiredly. She still hadn't called Derek even though she should have. She wasn't sure how to begin explaining this. But he deserved to know, because this was his world too. This was a world that belonged more to him than it ever did to her.

Allison sat down next to her. "I learned to keep secrets when I was seventeen. And secrets are hard. They tear you apart," she explained, gaze focused on her feet. She glanced up, squinting into the setting sun, which was just barely visible now over the trees. "I don't want to keep secrets. I know we're going to talk but just know, I'm going to be honest because secrets weigh more than any person should ever have to carry."

Lydia closed her eyes for just a moment, the sun lighting her face, and for just a moment, she looked years younger. The clock turned back to a simpler time where there were no werewolves and countless murders and a world that couldn't make sense.

She opened her eyes, turning her face away from the sun and managing a small smile. "I look forward to it," she said, pushing herself to her feet.

The heavy door leading into the dorms opened with a shuddering whine. She turned, hair falling over her shoulder, as Stiles and Scott walked outside, deep in discussion.

Her eyes fell to Stiles for just a moment, dark hair sticking up, flannel shirt not completely disguising that he wasn't as skinny as many would first guess. She glanced away immediately. "Okay, I know I don't have to explain this, but if this…person…is in werewolf mode, his senses are going to be heightened. He will be faster, his sense of smell stronger. Which is why I think while Allison is setting the trap, Scott should also shift, give ourselves an upper hand that we wouldn't have otherwise," Lydia began immediately. With the sun setting, they only had so long in natural light.

All three of them gaped at her. "_What_?" She shrugged. "My two closest friends are werewolves!" She exclaimed defensively. "I'm a pretty good strategist," she added.

Allison smiled proudly. "Useful." She tugged on her shirt uncertainly. "Have you called them, then?" She wondered.

Lydia raised her gaze to meet Allison's, eyes widening just slightly. "Oh, I don't want to concern them with this until we know what we're up against. They worry," she said casually, pushing her hair back over her shoulder, eyes sliding to where Stiles stood, arms swinging absently in front of him. He was incapable of standing still, she noticed. Always in motion, with flailing limbs and wide arm motions, foot bouncing. They were all nervous ticks, symptoms of a boy who grew up with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. She began to tick off the symptoms in her head before she realized that all she was doing was allowing him into her mind without him even realizing it. Besides, he didn't fit all the criteria…he was just different.

He rubbed his hands together and stepped forward. "Okay. We searched for a good five months for the guy who bit Scott and the furthest we got was some town twenty miles from Beacon Hills and from there, we came up completely empty. We know that it has to be a bite from an alpha to change like he did. So I'm kind of hoping you guys have a little more information to go on, what with knowing more than what your friendly neighborhood vet can tell you," he said waving his hand towards them, motioning for them to pick up.

Allison sighed, pushing herself to her feet. "This isn't the best place to discuss it. Anyone can overhead. We should head out but not together." Everyone stared blankly at her. She smiled anxiously. "Four people heading to a now known crime scene? Looks suspicious. Two of us go from one direction, two of us from the other. And Scott and Lydia both know where it's at."

_I could go with Stiles_, Lydia thought. The idea crept into her mind before she could quiet it. She wasn't certain of what she wanted in that instance. Does she go with Allison or offer to go with Stiles…? Could she be alone with him? She doesn't want this. _You want normal and he is at the center of everything not normal_, she reminded herself bitterly.

Scott glanced between Lydia and Stiles carefully before stepping forward, clapping his best friend on the shoulders. "I'll show Stiles. He can easily get lost," he joked.

Lydia managed a weak smile in Scott's direction, unsure if she was grateful or not, as she grabbed Allison's arm. "Come on. We can go in through the backwoods. I know the way," she told her.

Her and Allison headed off in the opposite direction, Lydia's grip tight on her arm. "Lydia, cutting off pressure here," Allison said, prying her friend's hands away from her arm. "What is going on with you?" She asked, laughing.

Lydia ignored her. She raised her chin almost defiantly. Her hands shook just barely and she curled her fingers into a fist. "Something is happening," she muttered quietly as they passed by a group of people heading in the opposite direction.

Allison stopped and pulled Lydia off to the side, away from anyone who could overhear them. "What do you mean?" She hissed quietly, glancing around cautiously.

Lydia sighed. "Lets keep moving. If I scream now, it's going to draw too much attention." She grinned widely, bottom lip trembling just slightly. "In the woods, no one can hear you scream," she joked.

Allison rolled her eyes but cracked a smile anyways. "This is going to take some getting used to. Werewolves are one thing but banshees?" She shook her head. "How did that happen?"

Lydia shrugged, starting forward. "I'm not sure. No one is really sure. There's this idea that if you get bitten, sometimes you can become something different due to some kind of internalized issues that you aren't even aware of. You don't shift into a werewolf but something entirely different, a reflection on your innermost self," she explained carefully.

Allison nodded. "Is that what happened with you?"

Lydia shook her head. "No. It's just a thought. But I don't shift. There's no big scary change for me. I'm a harbinger of death," she said with a faint smile. "Not the most flattering name but I like it better than the wailing woman."

Allison walked next to her, listening quietly, her bag swinging from her shoulder as they headed into the woods from the west, heading towards the crime scene. "What is it like?" She wondered.

Lydia sighed, pushing her hair back from her face, glancing towards the sun, trying to gauge their location and what direction they needed to go. She turned to the right and Allison followed dutifully. "It's a feeling. The scream doesn't come until the death actually occurs but it's not always death either. I can sometimes hear things others can't. It's almost like I have an internal GPS for disasters. A girl was kidnapped and I was able to find her. The screaming clears my head, allows me to hear things more clearly. I hear thoughts sometimes, or sometimes it's like there's a picture that I can't map out. A lot of it, for me, is instinct. I know something is wrong and I just have to piece it together. Everything is one big puzzle and sometimes there are missing pieces and I have to fill in the blanks," she explained slowly. "It's exhausting sometimes."

Allison listened, trying to make sense of it. "So if one of us was in danger…?"

Lydia smiled softly. "Depending on what kind of danger, I'd find you," she assured her and Allison laughed gratefully. "It's been useful. But getting to the place I am now wasn't easy." She could hear laughter in the distance. "We're getting close," she said, changing the subject abruptly. No need to go into how she thought she was losing her mind. How she tried to rationalize it, tried to make it fit together to make sense, how in a world where werewolves were real and roamed the woods at night, the idea of a banshee was _farfetched_. She didn't want to go into how she pleaded with Derek and Cora to lock her away somewhere because she was a danger to herself and how they refused, whispering to each other, trying to come up with some semblance of normality for her, when she could hear whispers in her head that didn't belong to them, but to the dead or the lost.

It was too much to think about. After that first body, her entire world shifted and there was no longer solid ground for her. It was _months _before she was finally found a place of acceptance and they learned that maybe she could be useful to their cause, instead of detrimental. She just needed to learn control, just like a new werewolf would have to learn not to kill, she would have to learn not to let the voices drive her to insanity. She could learn focus.

She just wished it wasn't happening right now. Because if it was, that meant that their big bad werewolf murderer was at it again. And the idea of a werewolf on a mass killing spree…

That was more terrifying than anything she could have dreamed of after the first time she heard someone die.

* * *

Stiles stepped past the tape, lifting it up for Scott to cross under. "They still have it taped off. Think there's more they can hope to find?" Scott wondered.

Stiles shrugged. "I don't know. All evidence has been bagged but it looks like an animal attack. They don't know what they're looking for but there isn't anything more they'll look for here except for paw prints," he explained. "But they'll eventually turn into human feet which will be incredibly confusing and definitely not what they were expecting. I'd actually love to be there to see their faces when it happens," he added as an afterthought.

Scott smiled for a moment. "Doesn't that include your dad?" He wondered.

Stiles shrugged. "My dad is the sheriff of Beacon Hills. He's always confused," he pointed out. "Admittedly, the Darach really threw him through a loop…"

Scott sighed. "Don't remind me, please." He shuddered. "Not my fondest memory."

Stiles grinned. "Yeah, well, she was a good teacher at least," he said helpfully. He crouched down. "This is where you found her?" He wondered.

Scott pointed a little to the left. "Actually there, if you want to get really specific."

Stiles nodded slowly. "That _is_ my biggest concern at the moment, actually," he said flatly. His best friend only rolled his eyes in response. "Go on, wolfy, do as the girl said before. _Shift_!"

"Why am I friends with you?" He mumbled, with a shake of his head.

Stiles tilted his head with a smirk. "My dashing good look and my sharp wit?" He offered obligingly.

Scott sighed patiently. "I think it might just be out of habit at this point."

Stiles snorted in amusement. "I've been a terrible influence on you, McCall," he said, laughing. He pushed himself back to his feet and glanced around. "How far out do you think the girls are?" He wondered.

Scott inclined his head, listening carefully. "A couple miles off, I think." He shut his eyes, focusing on putting all his focus into the shift. His nails elongated into claws, face sprouted fur, ears curved into points, and when he reopened his eyes, they were a deep yellow as opposed to his normal brown. His mouth opened to reveal sharp teeth and Stiles bit back his Little Red Riding Hood joke that was fixed on the tip of his tongue because now was not the time for jokes. Instead, he stepped back as Scott sniffed the air. "There's…_something_." He frowned, bushy brows connecting into a look of deep confusion and concern.

Lydia and Allison stepped out from behind some trees and Stiles watches, dragging his eyes away from his best friend, instead settling his focus onto the strawberry blonde who was actively avoiding his eye. He's known this girl for less than 24 hours and has already managed to develop what could only be described as a weirdly awkward relationship with this girl.

_Way to go, Stilinski, _he thought sullenly. First girl he's really been interested in since Heather and he has somehow messed it up, all by being a part of a world that she wanted to escape. He almost laughed…a victim of circumstances.

They exist together in a world that doesn't make sense.

"Someone else is going to die," Lydia said, stepping beneath the yellow tape. "I can feel it," she added when they both turned their heads to face her. "It's a feeling."

Stiles brushed his fingers through his hair, dragging in a deep breath. "Great. So another death."

Scott shook his head. "Quiet," he shushed and Stiles fell silent, scowling. "This smell is familiar. Where do I know _it_?" He growled.

There was the sound of branches snapping beneath heavy footfalls and they all spun around as a towering figure stepped into the clearing, shoulders hunched. Lydia's eyes widened and the other three all shared similar looks of surprise and confusion.

"Because," Derek Hale started. "It's the same person who bit you _and_ Lydia."

* * *

"Well, this guy certainly knows how to make an entrance," Stiles muttered to Allison while Lydia, Scott, and Derek were off to the side, arguing in low voices that Stiles and Allison couldn't quite hear.

Allison smiled softly, bending down so she could find old footprints. "Risky, isn't it?"

"What, sneaking around the woods when there's a killer on the loose? Yeah, a little bit," he agreed.

Allison laughed. "No. Coming back to where you left a body. He returned, leaving fresh tracks and a fresh scent. It's like he wants to be caught…" she frowned, glancing up at Stiles. "Why would he do that?" She muttered, glancing back down at the fresh tracks in the dirt. Then sighed. "And also, we're sneaking around in the woods when there's a killer on the loose," she pointed out.

Stiles shrugged. "Yeah…" He said slowly. "But we're doing it as a group."

She stood up, crossing her arms over her chest, staring curiously at him. "Yeah, we are. And if a homicidal werewolf came out of nowhere, who do you think would be his first target?" She asked inquisitively. She patted him on the shoulder. "He's her oldest friend. You're getting worked up over nothing," she whispered.

Stiles mouthed wordlessly. "I-I am not…I am not worked up!" He spluttered uselessly. Then sighed. "How obvious am I?"

Allison's face screwed up in concentration. "Um, seeing as how I only saw you and her in the same room earlier today, I would say from the moment I walked in?" She guessed. "It's fine. I'm not going to tell her, it's none of my business."

Stiles dropped his shoulders, head ducked. "Yeah, well, I only met her last night. All I know is she's a banshee who happens to be really smart," he said with a sigh.

Allison squeezed his arm. "That's more than most people get to know, isn't it?" She smiled sadly. "Come on. While they argue amongst themselves, you can help me set the traps."

The two of them headed off into the woods, Allison's arrows hanging from her shoulder, bow kept at her side. Stiles eyed this warily. "Do you plan on using those?" He asked.

Allison lifted her bow, staring at in deep thought. "If necessary." She smiled assuredly. "No worries, I don't plan on putting an arrow in you."

Stiles laughed uncomfortable. "Comforting. Maybe sharp, pointy things make me nervous."

Allison lifted her to stare at him, eyes narrowed. "Sharp pointy things? Not homicidal werewolves?" She asked disbelievingly. She laughed quietly. "No. Is it homicidal werewolves and me being your only hope of not dying if we run into it?"

Stiles scratched at the back of his neck, smiling. "Seriously? I'm pretty sure Scott wouldn't even know how to fire that thing! I feel just as safe with you as I would back there."

The truth dawned on Allison as she watched Stiles carefully, hands shoved into his pocket, head titled back to stare up at the sky. He was thoughtful, but probably slightly reckless; she could already deduce that much about him. And it became clear to her the issue at hand. It had nothing to do with _who _was going to protect him. "Oh. You don't want have to feel like anyone should protect you," she said softly.

Stiles head snapped around to stare at her. "What?" He said sharply. "No. No, that isn't it at all. Look, four years ago, when we were starting high school, Scott and I were still just two loser kids. We were target practice in elementary school and in high school, I was the kid who mouthed off in the back of the class and Scott was the asthmatic whose inhaler was pretty much his lifeline. We depended on each other but there was a balance. Then I convince Scott to out one night because my dad got a call in on the radio and suddenly things are _very _different," he explained.

"And you're jealous?" She asked, genuinely confused.

Stiles shook his head resolutely. "No," he insisted. "When he first shifted…he had no _control_. And I was the one to nearly pay the price. And I watched, day after day, as he lost control any time he got angry or upset and it was hell. That was never anything I wanted for myself. I helped him through more than one panic attack." He laughed bitterly. "One of the many things I'm good for anyways. It isn't that he's strong and I'm weak. It's the fact that my best friend is a werewolf, my dad is the Sheriff, and everyone has some kind of use and I'm just fumbling around, hoping to make it to the next day and the day after that. It isn't that I don't want to be protected but…I don't want to feel like I'm going to be responsible for someone dying because they are _trying_ to defend me because I can't defend myself," he explained with a defeated sigh.

Allison worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. "You know," she began with an encouraging smile. "I don't think you need to worry. You and Scott have been doing this for how long? Almost three years? And I'd been doing this for a while before I stopped, and I have been into archery even longer. And having a banshee, who can actually tell us when someone is going to die? I don't know where we are going to go from here, but between a werewolf, a hunter, a banshee, and _you _I think we are going to make a pretty great team," she said confidently.

Stiles laughed shakily for just a moment before rolling his shoulders, scrambling for just a little bit of his dignity after his confession. "Are you sure you're a hunter? Not a therapist?"

Allison's laugh was light, kind. She didn't judge him for any moments of uncertainty that still settled like lead in his stomach. "No. But if you come to me for help like this, I will start charging," she warned him. She sighed, face softening. "The one thing I was truly afraid of growing up was my own weaknesses. Watching day in and day out as my father left, a gun tucked into belt, never sure where he was going, what he was doing, but fearing I'd never live up to some expectation that I didn't even understand," she admitted quietly. "Then one day, there was a bag over my head and I was bound to a chair. I was officially being made an Argent and I didn't understand what it meant, other than I was expected to get out of that chair on my own and then lead. He explained what it meant to be a part of this family. _'We hunt those who hunt us_.' My dad never fully approved. We were never hunted," she said with a wry smile. "But it was the code and we followed the code. We kept _order,_" she said, glowering at a point he couldn't see, trapped in a memory. "I understand fear and uncertainty. I watched people change into something almost unrecognizable and they weren't even werewolves, they were people I knew, who I trusted with my life."

Stiles stood by silent, arms swinging at his side, listening attentively. His fingers curled and uncurled, his arms swung back and forth, he rolled his shoulders, completely incapable of keeping still. Allison nearly smiled as his movements caught her eye.

She began setting up the emitters, waiting to turn them on until necessary. "I think we should wait," he said suddenly. "If this guy has another victim, we might have more to go," Stiles said, motioning to the emitters. "I'm just wondering if maybe we should learn more before attacking. I don't want to go into this blind. People get hurt that way."

Allison frowned. "Maybe you're right." She stood there for a moment, thinking. Stiles thought if he looked closely enough, he might actually be able to see the wheels turning in her head. "You think we can't save whoever he is killing now?"

Lydia's chilling scream echoing throughout the woods effectively answered her question.

* * *

**_Note_**_: If you follow me on Tumblr, you get a lot more insight to a lot of the things I'm doing, but if you don't, I'll just say now that I do feel very strongly about my Stiles/Allison friendship for reasons I can't even begin to explain so that's why they got lovely little moments. But the Stydia is also coming. And also some nice Lydia/Scott moments and Lydia/Derek moments and even some Scott/Stiles/Derek moments because who wouldn't want that? _


End file.
